


270. Time Runs Slowly

by tveckling



Series: Dare to Write challenge [9]
Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Benvolio keeps his heart hidden too long, Canon Compliant, For maximum angst, M/M, Read together with 71. Cruel Laugh - they belong together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:06:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tveckling/pseuds/tveckling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benvolio is the odd man out in the group; he doesn't really have a stake in the conflict. He watches, he speaks, he tries to prevent, but in the end he is powerless, and for that he loses the one thing closest to his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	270. Time Runs Slowly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ambrose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ambrose/gifts).



The moment he noticed the blood time ceased to move. Sure, everyone kept moving, kept talking, and things kept happening quickly, far too quickly, but Benvolio was still stuck in that one moment. Even as he ran to Mercutio's side and took his arm, even as he talked, asked, questioned, his heart and mind was frozen.

He had always known Mercutio—with that fiery temper of his—was the most likely one of them to die young. Everyone knew. Mercutio himself had joked about it plenty of times. But it wasn't until then, sitting in a dark and cold church with Mercutio bleeding out in his arms, that Benvolio actually realized the truth of it.

And the matter of fact was that he could do nothing to stop it.

Mercutio's page had been sent for a surgeon, and Benvolio had sent his own as well, but as he watched red spread over Mercutio's shirt, a part of him knew that they would be too late. Time may have stopped for him, but it seemed to only have sped up for Mercutio. He was shaking, gasping in between coughing up blood, and he looked to be in so much pain that Benvolio couldn't help crying. Because of course Mercutio wouldn't allow himself tears, not even in the situation he was in, not even when he lay dying and they both knew it.

Benvolio pulled Mercutio closer to his chest and wiped away the blood that ran from his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "Help will come soon, don't you worry," he whispered, just to have some sound that wasn't Mercutio in pain. He stroked gentle fingers across Mercutio's forehead, and tried to smile. "They'll have a surgeon with them, and he will take care of you and you'll be back to your feet soon enough. Just hang in there and you can keep on bothering the rest of us. You need to hang on, Mercutio, do you hear me? You know I can't handle Romeo and his love-sickness all by myself, and who will teach Valentine all the best ways to sneak out of the palace and the best pranks if you're gone? I don't even mind being the one you show all pranks on, you know. Just, hang on, okay?"

There was something thick in his throat, and it was getting harder to get words out. Mercutio stared at him with glossy eyes, hadn't looked away even once, and Benvolio kept stroking his face and wiping away the blood he kept coughing up—why was the blood so quick to spread while time elsewhere was running so slow? Where was those damn pages?

"Do you remember all those plans we had, about how to change this city? You're going to become Prince, you know, you can do it all. I promised I'll always be there and support you and give you advice and give you an earful when you were doing stupid things, remember? For that to happen you need to live, Mercutio, you need to- you need to do this. You need to hang on. I know it's painful, but you have to."

The tears were blocking his sight, so Benvolio just closed his eyes and put his forehead against Mercutio's. There was no way to know from whom the shaking came from now, with the two of them pressed to tight together. Somehow Benvolio's hand had found its way to Mercutio's, and he clutched it hard enough to make his own fingers ache.

"You can't die, Mercutio." His voice wasn't even a whisper now, and Benvolio didnt know if Mercutio could actually hear him. He couldn't make himself talk louder, though. "There's a whole world here that you'll leave behind, and all people you know and love and who loves you back. You know part of your uncle's anger about the fighting is because of his concern for you, and there's Val who idolizes you, and you're Romeo's best friend and confidante and I-"

Mercutio squeezed his hand, just a little, just enough to show that he was listening, that he was still there.

Benvolio took a deep breath and forced back the tears, forced himself to calm down and open his eyes, and he looked down on Mercutio. It was a simple motion to lean closer and press his lips against Mercutio's in a chaste kiss, but at the same time it was also the hardest thing he had ever done. That feeling had always been inside of him, as far back as he could remember, but he had always pushed them down, pushed them out of sight and mind, and pretended they didn't exist. That was the only way he could continue to smile around his friends, the only way he wouldn't crumble into pieces every time he had to watch Mercutio flirt with everyone around him, but never realizing that Benvolio existed.

"I can't lose you," he whispered against Mercutio's lips. "Please don't leave me."

Mercutio squeezed his hand again and whispered something back, with a voice cracked and hoarse, working only through power of will, and then Benvolio could do nothing but hold him tight when his tries to gasp only got worse.

When the final jerks had stopped Benvolio slowly let go of his iron grip on Mercutio's shoulders and laid him down gently on the floor. He had to fight to breathe when he met the lifeless eyes staring up at him, but it got easier once he had managed to shut them, hard as it was with fingers that couldn't feel anything. Wiping away all of the blood from Mercutio's face was hard for the same reason, and to help himself concentrate Benvolio started humming a song—it wasn't until after he was done that he realized it was the song the two of them had been singing on the way back from the tavern the night before. It was the most bawdy song either had known, and most certainly didn't fit the situation or place, but it was—had been—Mercutio's favorite.

He left Mercutio behind him as he stumbled out of the church and into the bright daylight. A small distance away he spotted Romeo pacing, and Benvolio realized exactly how little time had passed inside that church. It had felt like an eternity for him, but for everyone else...

Mercutio's voice echoed within his head.

_I love you._

The words he had always wanted to hear, from the person he wanted to hear them from, so why did they hurt so bad? It was better to be numb, unfeeling, the way his body was. Why was his mind so sensitive, like it had been torn open and left as an open wound?

_I love you._

His mother had used to say, back when Benvolio was a small child and both his parents were alive, that there were two things people could mean with 'I love you'. Sometimes it really meant 'I love you,' but sometimes it simply meant 'I'm sorry.'

_I love you._

Further ahead Romeo noticed Benvolio approaching, and he turned around with an anxious face. Benvolio felt the weight settle on his shoulders with the knowledge that he was the one who would have to shatter the last of his cousin's innocence. All he wanted to do was go back to the too cold church and lie down next to Mercutio.

_I'm sorry._

But he couldn't.


End file.
